Colourless Eyes

Stomping feet, swinging hips, and long gone friends
Form the memory of my last dance with
The first love of my adolescence, whose
Radiance never ceased to amaze me.
I fell at first sight, but hindsight reveals
Teenage infatuation without hope.
And yet I still remember when, as I
Was leaving the party, she stepped forward
And pulled me into a wistful embrace.
When we both pulled back, our eyes met and I
Became so entranced by her gaze that I
Bypassed their colour completely, losing
Myself in something else entirely.

Sober Story

Same sober story, hands raised by the riverside,
Yet this is different, something is missing,
A spark or a flame for which I am famed
Has flickered out in my absence from the game.

The bearable is now beyond comprehension,
Dancing feet offer no reprieve, nor do the beats,
The rhythms that once offered respite and insight
Are dead to my ears and beneath my hands’ sleight.

Several shots sunk down in spite of the burning within,
Lighting candles that shall guide them through the night,
All around me they laugh and joke while I just choke
On the water that quenches a fire I used to stoke.

As it unfolds, plays and poems are written in my mind,
Placing people upon pedestals for the sake of creation,
That is what I tell myself when I put journals on my shelf
Now full of these plays and poems all about myself.

Yet, where once they glowed brighter than the stars,
Positive about being clear amidst the drunken haze,
They have become dim the more I refuse my sin
That is not cardinal but personal in a fear of being like him.

My father was an angry drunk who put holes in doors,
Yet he was always better at creating when he chose to be,
He was the master of his trade without a hearing aid,
Despite this he fled and the paint on his grave still fades.

And what is the point of thought clear in sobriety,
If it remains clouded by the consequences of life all around it?
Your alter ego is your shadow not seen in the here and now,
Who’s usually hid within your soul, waiting to come out.

Yet that is me all the time as everyday I see mine,
So is committing my supposed sin really such a crime?

One Key

If I could just
Set myself free,
Then it could
Be you and me,
And then we would
Sail the sea,
Us alone,
Reality,
Ours to make
For one key,
Unlock the cage
That keeps me,
Conflicting,
This country,
Can’t breath,
Imprisons me,
Need to get out
Or choke slowly,
And just

Lead life the way it was meant to live,
Or else there is nothing else to give,
No vice to expose, no gift to share,
No truth to epos, no reason to bear,
And I need you with me to see it all,
Every orange sky and every high fall,
Every echo that is your call.

If you could just
Come through snow,
Open the door
And watch me go,
Strike a match,
Candle’s glow,
Walk ahead,
I will follow,
Not too far,
Stone’s throw,
Hold my hand,
Let me know,
You’re here to stay
To just

Lead life the way it was meant to live,
Or else there is nothing else to give,
No vice to expose, no gift to share,
No truth to epos, no reason to bear,
And I need you with me to see it all,
Every orange sky and every high fall,
Every echo that is your call.

If we could just
Say no more,
Act our intent,
Dreams to fore,
Turning the key
Is but a chore,
Escape to come
Is so much more,
Flight to water,
To Earth’s core,
And there stop,
Forevermore.

Needle

They lay me back, taking the pressure,
High iron, lots of energy, healthy,
Made to donate, they say.
Needle pierces the skin, a pint the maximum
One can give away to those who need it,
Yet as they pull the needle out of the puncture,
Plaster it up as the slight bruising begins to form,
I just want to stick myself again, take it all out,
Lose all the blood that keeps me alive.

Strangers leave this room with smiles,
Knowing they have changed somebody’s life;
I laugh with my friends whose smiles I envy,
Resisting the urge to just hook myself to the
Machine and let myself slip into sleep.
A release is within my grasp that I cannot have,
An excuse that would absolve me of all blame,
Allowing me to flee just like he did,
Just not as obvious to the eyes of everybody.

Others seek an escape through needles, too,
But I am not like those who litter the City Centre,
Hogging the paths because they have nowhere to go,
No jobs to pay them, nobody to help them;
Down and outs whose numbers never came up,
Or who played Chance and paid the price for it.
I am not these people, I never will be these people,
I have more than I need and probably always will,
So why do I want a needle to help me run for?